Carlile had reason to believe that Lord Chief Justice Abbott was very unwilling to have the trial take place in his Court, and had had a correspondence with Lord Castlereagh on the subject. He opposed the whole proceeding from the filing of the first information down to the trials themselves; but he was over-ruled; by what argument or proffered reward does not appear. Then as to the jury. It was a special jury, but Carlile was not allowed to challenge the jurors, although even while in court he received warning that at least five of them had publicly declared that they would hang him if they could, or give him at least five years' imprisonment on bread and water, and they went so far as to say to him in open court "that his defence would not help him". They were allowed to separate and go to their homes, and mingle with everybody and anybody the night before the verdict was rendered, which all goes to show that the case, as Carlile said, was predetermined, and the whole proceeding on the part of Judge and advocates a travesty and mockery of justice.
His defence on the second day was momentarily interrupted, and on the third day was completely suppressed. In this connection may be mentioned the case of a man who had been summoned on this jury, and who had left a sick bed to sit with them at the trial. This man was of the same belief as Carlile, and had said to friends that he had no doubt at all of the sincerity of heart of the defendant, and that he, the juror, knew that Carlile would go to the scaffold if need be in defence of those opinions as _he_ would. This man had left a sick bed to do what he could for Carlile on the jury, yet at last, and for some unknown reason, he allowed the verdict to be given without a dissenting word on his part.
At the close of each day's proceedings, Carlile issued a full report and sold it in twopenny sheets. These sheets were headed, "A Full Account of Richard Carlile's _Mock Trials_", and were sold with marvellous rapidity. They were immediately condemned by the authorities as indictable, and Mrs. Carlile was threatened with prosecution for selling them in the shop; but the sale kept on, and the trade at the Fleet Street shop exceeded anything that was so far known in the annals of the bookselling business.* Besides this, Carlile addressed open letters to his judge and jury, arraigning them for the illegality of their conduct, and spread them broadcast. He also continued a series of articles in the _Republican_--called the "Crisis"--of the most daring character. They show the indomitable spirit and fearlessness of Carlile even while under heavy bail and, later, under conviction. Even while in prison he never faltered, no matter what the consequences to himself. Feeling that he was _right_ in the position he had taken, he threw caution and diplomacy to the winds, and dared and defied the enemy to do their worst! One parallel only can I recall, and one which comes up in memory often as the daring deeds of this unconquerable spirit are recounted. It occurs in a little book called "The Bridge of the Gods". It is an Indian story, and the epoch is also far distant, in William Penn's time, I think. A scout, a white man, has fallen into the hands of his enemies, the Indians, and they prepare to torture him to death in their extremely horrible fashion, but he laughs at their devices, and even as they heap coals of fire upon his breast, he laughs at and derides them, and taunts his murderers by reminding them of all he has done against them, some of which acts they had seemed to forget, and while the coals of fire are (literally) burning their way to his heart he laughs and jeers them on to fresh horrors, never flinching, but daring and defying them till the last moment. Carlile's case was a civilised counterpart of this Indian story, yet with a happier result. The reader will realise the force of this comparison better as he reads further of Carlile's many encounters with his enemies and the enemies of intellectual freedom.